And then I wrote...

by Dick Schilling, Editor Emeritus

... that I suspect along with many of you, I took occasional glances at the moon phenomenon which was taking place Sunday night.
We had been alerted to the fact that the event would be unusual, more significant than the usual lunar eclipses, which happen about every 30 months.
For the first time in 33 years, and only the fifth time since 1900, the moon which was being eclipsed was the so-called “super moon,” a term which refers to the fact that the moon is at its closest to the earth and therefore appears larger than usual.
The large full moon at this time of the year is not unusual, and in ordinary circumstances we sometimes refer to it as the “harvest moon” since it coincides with fall harvest.
A lunar eclipse occurs when our sun, the Earth and the moon form pretty much a straight line causing the moon to pass through the earth’s shadow.
This rare eclipse is also sometimes referred to as a “blood moon” since with full umbra, the darkened moon to some appears reddish in color. Try as I might, I could not see the red color, although I thought maybe there was a hint at about 90% penumbra.
It should be noted that not all parts of the United States were treated to the degree of eclipse that we were.
Knowing the effects the moon has on ocean tides, I was surprised to hear one commentator on radio at mid-week saying the nearness of the moon would only affect tides “an inch or two.”
Then a television report early in the weekend hinted that just the big, full moon, without the eclipse, could mean a high tide a couple feet above normal, perhaps even flooding some coastal lowlands. Did that happen?
Those of us who were born from mid-June to mid-July are sometimes referred to as “moon children,” although I am not sure why. I hope it does not carry the same implication as “moon calf,” meaning a simple minded child.
That last Sunday of September was unseasonably warm, so I was surprised when, as I walked up the steps to the church about 9:45 a.m., I was distracted by the sound of geese. As I looked east, I saw a flock heading south, but perhaps in company with the weird moon happenings, they were in a straight line, not the familiar “V” formation.
Monday morning, there was one lone goose on the city park pond.
The geese reminded me of a story I heard on Minnesota Public Radio one day recently. Perhaps unjustly, I always get the impression that public radio personalities feel they are intellectually superior to many of their listeners. So I laughed out loud when one said there was going to be a discussion about the “ruffed geese” hunting season in Minnesota. A bit later, he got it right... ruffed grouse.
Speaking of moons, the Cubs are in the playoffs! Talk about once in a blue moon!